Writing Laxative and Hedging

My cousin asked me the other day, “What would be your elevator pitch for your book?”

And I couldn’t come up with one. I’ve ruminated over the question since, and it’s gotten me thinking about, well, a lot of things. Here’s what they are (hopefully putting them into writing will get them out of my way):

I don’t think I want my book to have a point. I don’t want to beat my readers over the head with some sort of takeaway from my nonsense. If you’d like to glean something from my storytelling, then I strongly encourage you to do just that (and let me know what it is because it’s probably something I’m missing). I have full faith in my readers’ ability to do that without me. I feel like so many autobiographical works are written from the perspective of “look where I am today,” and I don’t have that, yet.

On that point, I’m not sure that I ever will have that. I view myself as a continuous work in progress, so I don’t think it’s a good idea to wait until I feel like I’ve gotten somewhere to justify publishing shit. I want my stories to serve as entertainment – as an escape from your every day humdrummery. I want you to be able to immerse yourself in my poor decisions so that you don’t have to confront yours for a moment.

If we all want a longer narrative and more meaning, why is YouTube so popular? Then again, do I want to be the writing equivalent of YouTube? Do I want to support the continuing downward spiral of our attention spans? Or is it less a support and more an acknowledgement? Like, this is the way the world works, and I can either take advantage of it or stand behind my love of long-form storytelling, and try to be “better than.”

I’m left feeling like maybe I should have something specific to say. I should have a reason to be telling these stories. I should have a model of the world I’m working toward by telling them. I only got so far as “I want my voice heard,” and I didn’t take the time to think about what it would be saying. Shouldn’t I be trying to have some sort of positive impact?

I think I should. So how do I do that? Well, going back to school to study psychology is a start. I’ll get a masters degree in clinical psychology, then I’ll use my vastly-better-than-my-undgrad-GPA to apply to PhD programs in Europe. Largely, I won’t listen to the recommendations of people without doctoral degrees, so why would I expect people to listen to me?

Also, it seems like one’s degree of success in the entertainment industry ultimately doesn’t matter. Eventually, everyone loses “buzz,” then what? My grandfather had a degree of success in the business, and it got him into a union, and it got him into a very nice retirement home in the valley. But is that what I want? Is that where I want to end up? I don’t think it is.

I’d much rather explore the world and write about it, as I’ve always made decisions informed by the question, “How good will the story be if I do this?” I’d love to just rest on the laurels of my writing, but I’m scared by the potential of being another 5 years down the line without anything to show for it, if it ends up being the case that I’m just not as good as I think I am.

I will not stop writing. I will not stop trying. But I will give myself an out in the form of a PhD. I will allow myself the comfort of knowing I can always teach at a university if things don’t pan out exactly the way I want. And I will be called, “Dr. Sean Patrick Farrell,” which I gotta say, has a pretty nice ring to it.

*Sigh* That’s better.

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